


Devil May Care

by jehannaford



Category: GHOST - Fandom, Ghost (Sweden Band), Ghost BC, the band ghost
Genre: F/M, OFC is shy, Palace Intrigue, Papa III is confusing, Papa III is sweet, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:32:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehannaford/pseuds/jehannaford
Summary: Papa Emeritus III is in a difficult position. While his own supporters were able to elevate him to his leadership role in the Church, opposing factions are hatching plots of their own.In the midst of this turmoil, a chance meeting between Papa and a shy young novice may change the course of the Church's future--and the course of their own.





	1. Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a sort of prequel to Devil May Care. I realized I had to put it there when I developed the headcanons it covers because I'm going to need them for Chapter 8, and it was either write a prequel or bog down Chapter 8 with endless exposition. So if you are new to Devil May Care, READ THIS FIRST! And if you've been reading all along, READ THIS BEFORE YOU GO ON TO CHAPTER 8! I hated having to do it this way, but that's what happens when your world-building isn't as done as you thought it was when you started. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for your patience and your continued reading! I appreciate your support more than I can ever say.

## One: The Monstrance Clock

The Abbey Church was empty at this hour of the night. The moon was new, leaving the interior in total darkness.

Through the hidden trap door, down a winding flight of narrow stone steps, lay the secret ritual room. At its center was the low stone altar. In times long past, it had been soaked in the blood of sacrifices. Tonight, it was covered in soft blankets, for a different sort of offering. The light from the black candles was just enough to see by. A haze of smoke emanated from a nearby censer, filling the room with a dark, spicy odor, redolent of frankincense, myrrh, and other rare reagents known only to a few. 

On a table by the wall stood the monstrance clock. It was wrought of silver, full of baroque flourishes. Its ticking was loud in the small room.

The only exit lay behind the door to the stairway. A second door led to a small adjoining room. Behind that door, the Prime Mover was waiting.

The monstrance clock tolled eleven, echoing through the consecrated space. It was nearly time.

Papa Nihil’s preparations were right on schedule. He’d done this twice before in his life, and tonight would be the third, and likely final time. As he paced the borders of the room, chanting the incantations that would create the sphere of protection, he smiled to himself, recalling the nervous young man he had been on that first night, decades ago. It had all turned out just as it should, on that night and the second one too. He had given the Church two strong sons of the Bloodline to lead it into the future, two children sired by House Asmodeus, just as he himself had been. Even though they were still relatively young, both were promising to become powerful Wrathspeakers, combat mages second to none, as only children sired by this House could be.

It took a great deal of time and power to enact the Bloodline ritual. Summoning greater demons was not so easy as it had been in the former age of magic, but it was more necessary than ever. Without a demon-sire, the child would not be born with the Eye, nor have access to the bulk of the infernal magic they would need to serve and protect the Church.

His circle had been cast, its edges visible as a dim blue light. The time had come for the final stage of the working, the summoning of the demon who would possess him for the remainder of the ritual.

Papa Nihil chanted the summoning spell in the harsh, staccato syllables of Wrathspeech, calling the demon forth in its own language, the tongue spoken by the demons of House Asmodeus.

_Lord Asmodeus, Demon Prince of Wrath, strong left hand of Satan, general of the Army of Hell, send forth one of your own…._

The clock struck twelve. A shadow fell over his vision as the demon took control. The door opened, and the Prime Mover approached the altar.

She was a tiny woman, pale, with a mass of dark curly hair and a strong classic profile. She held herself stiffly, eyes fixed on Nihil.

He raised his face to her. The features were his, but the glint in his eyes and his wicked grin were not. 

“Isabella…”

His voice was deep with a seductive purr, alien to the upper world but as familiar to her as her own breath.

She ran to his arms and embraced him, faint with joy and relief. “It _is_ you! I was so worried….”

“Did you think he could keep me from you, my dear? We’re blood-bound, you and I. These mere fripperies could never stand in my way.”

“I had hoped, but I couldn’t be sure. Thank Satan you made it!”

“Of course I did. Her Majesty will be _very_ pleased.”

“I was afraid you might get in trouble for this….”

He laughed. “Hellfire, no! This will be the first time my House has sired a child of the Bloodline in generations! It’s a coup for my Lady, truly, and the greatest trick we’ve played on dour old Asmodeus in an age!”

“He’s bound to be angry….”

The demon grew serious. “Yes, he will be, but it’s little enough he can do about it. Did the Morningstar not will it, I could never have come to you. His will is in this as in all things, and Asmodeus knows it. You should worry more about Nihil’s anger. When this is over, he will know what happened here tonight.”

“He won’t hurt me. Not while I carry a Bloodline child.” 

“Then see that you are careful once the babe is born. I will offer you such protection as I can, but be wary.”

“I will, my love. I’m not afraid.”

“That’s my brave girl. Very good.”

“I would’ve dared far more than this. I wanted the child to be ours. I never wanted to be given to a stranger.”

He raised her chin with a finger to look her in the eye. “I would have done anything I could to spare you from that fate.” 

He led her to the altar to complete what Papa Nihil had begun.

  


# Thirteen years later

## Two: Words of Wrath

“Again.”

Terzo sighed. “But Brother--”

“No buts!”

He turned back to the target once more, and started the incantation over from the beginning. 

The syllables felt rough as he spoke them, just as they always did. It was like trying to speak with a mouthful of sharp-edged gravel. He heard himself falling into sibilants again, smoothing away the edges. He couldn’t make the right sounds come out no matter how many times he tried. His accent was never quite right.

He made a sharp gesture toward the target as he finished the spell. A small burst of energy leapt toward it, and fizzled out halfway before it ever reached its goal.

The brother shook his head. “Terzo, your accent is not where it needs to be. You’re missing all the guttural sounds; this isn’t Lilim-speak!”

“I know, but I just can’t!”

“There’s no reason for this, boy. You just need to apply yourself. If you practiced more, surely you’d master it. Your brothers were already nearly fluent by the time they were your age.”

Terzo set his jaw. If he let himself say the retort that was on the tip of his tongue, he’d just get an even longer lecture and a punishment besides. 

“This is the native language of your House. Wrathspeech should be the easiest infernal language of them all for you, and yet you still haven’t advanced much beyond what any human adept is able to do.”

“Brother, I have been practicing. I just can’t make some of those sounds.”

“You have the Blood, Terzo. There’s nothing preventing you from learning this material.”

He sighed. He’d been able to pick up the smaller magics that were possible with Wrathspeech with little trouble, but as soon as they tried to teach him the advanced material, he couldn’t get any farther. He should be able to learn any of his House’s spells, even if the higher ones would require extra power to make them work. He hadn’t gotten far enough to learn those spells at all.

“I’ve spoken with your other instructors; they’ve told me how quick you are with your other language classes, you’re clearly very bright. I don’t understand why this is giving you so much trouble.”

It was nothing he hadn’t heard a hundred times before. “You just need to apply yourself.” “You’re not practicing enough.” Most of his other teachers said the same things, the ones who taught the boring classes. He just wasn’t a good student. His father frowned every time one of his report cards came in. It was always the same. “Doesn’t pay attention in class.” “Daydreams too much.” “Doesn’t follow instructions.”

_Maybe I’m just not good enough._

_How will I ever take office if I can’t defend the Church?_

The Brother shook his head. “We’re out of time for today. I want you to practice every day before our next class, do you hear me? We need to make some progress. You’re dismissed.”

Terzo didn’t linger. The class he had next was one of his favorites.

## Three: The Words and the Music

Sister Lili set out the pot of soil and its single seed.

“Go ahead, Terzo.”

He began his incantation. The words flowed so easily, like falling water. Even in a monotone chant, the language had a music of its own.

As he finished, a shoot sprouted up from the pot and rapidly put out leaves, and then a single flower: A red tulip. He began a new spell, and the petals of the flower changed from red to royal blue.

“Good! I see you’ve been practicing.”

He smiled. He actually hadn’t. He hadn’t had to. A single read-through of the spell was all he’d needed. 

“You’re already well past where I usually stop teaching adepts, you know. You have such a gift for Lilim-speak, I’d like to extend your independent study. Would you like to do that?”

“Sure! But wouldn’t the higher spells only work for that House?”

She looked at the eager, open face of the boy, so unlike his brothers. _If this child is an Asmodean I will eat my veil,_ she thought sourly.

To say so out loud would be impossible. Questioning the parentage of a Bloodline child was as much as her job was worth, possibly even her place in the Church itself. Old Nihil was not the forgiving sort. 

She couldn’t understand why he’d always told everyone the youngest born was House Asmodeus if it wasn’t true, but the politics of the Bloodline were beyond her. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the child his birthright, by any means necessary. She couldn’t imagine that Lucifer would want his education to be neglected for the sake of appearances.

“When you get far enough, yes, that’s true. But I will teach you to use the diacritical marks, and you will be able to apply that to all of them.”

“But…those are for the music. And I really would have to be Lilim to make that work.”

Lilim-speak was normally taught as chanted spells only. All of the words had diacritical marks that showed how to sing them as well and this made the spells far stronger, but since only the Lilim could use that power, human adepts weren’t trained in it.

“Look at it this way. You’re already well into your voice training, right? I know you want to sing and write your own songs someday. The music of the Lilim is unique. I think learning it will add something to your musical studies, if nothing else. Here….”

She took a few books off her desk. “Have a look through these. This one has the basic notations for the music. Try a few of your simpler spells and see how you like it. It won’t change the effects, of course. Even if you were House Lilith you’d need a circle of adepts behind you feeding you power to use true demon-magic. But I think you might enjoy this from a musical perspective.”

He took the books, planning to find a quiet corner to start on them as soon as class was over. 

“Thanks! I definitely will….” He sighed.

“Terzo? What’s wrong?”

“I wish I was as good at Wrathspeaking as I was at this. I can’t _use_ this for anything, and my father says it’s a waste of time.”

She looked at him for a moment. “What is magic?”

He blinked. “It’s using your will and power to remake the world the way you want it?”

“Yes, that’s right. And there’s more than one way to work your will in the world. Not all change is made at the point of a sword.”

“But I have to be a combat mage to defend the Church.”

“Terzo, you _can_ use the spells of House Lilith for combat.”

“But how?”

“You already know how to do this. What’s the nature of Lilim-spells?”

“Temptation and persuasion.”

“Right. What do you do when you cast one of these spells? You’re remaking the world by coaxing it into the shape you want. You achieve the same ends, but by persuasion, not force of arms.”

“My father says only Wrathspeaking has enough power for combat magic.”

“Oh really? Tell me, Terzo, what caused the Fall of Humanity? Was it an army? A war?”

“No, it was…it was the Serpent in the Garden.”

“That’s right. The voice of temptation caused Eve to eat the apple. Without the Deceiver, there would be no knowledge, no higher consciousness. _That_ is the power that changed the world of humans forever.

“The point I’m trying to make here is that power can appear in unexpected guises. House Lilith is far from weak; they simply achieve their ends in their own unique way. Princess Lilith would not be one of the great powers of Hell if her House was weak!”

“Well, no, but--”

“I know your father has his own ideas about these things, yes. You’re still young, of course you must try to follow the path he wants you to take. But you’ll be grown someday, and then you will be able to make choices of your own. Keep learning what your heart tells you it needs, my boy. You may find it useful one day after all.”

“...all right, Sister. Thanks.”

She smiled at him. “We’re done for the day. Enjoy your books.”

She watched him leave, and wondered. 

_Lucifer works in mysterious ways. What did he intend for the Church by sending it this child?_


	2. Chapter 2

#### Prologue

  
  


Papa felt a headache coming on as he left the meeting room. _These council meetings,_ he thought, _are definitely not improving with age._

Antonio kept pace with him as the various council members went their separate ways. Glancing around to ensure that they were now alone, he said, “Papa, the Order of the Widow’s Son is still yours. Don’t worry about these bitter old men.”

Papa nodded. The Left-hand path Masons were some of his staunchest supporters. It was a good thing that they counted some influential people among their number, or even they would not be enough to hold things together.

 _I have been leading the Church for over a year,_ thought Papa. _Our recruitment numbers are higher than they’ve been in a decade. Why are they still fighting me over this?_

That _stronzo_ Miller was the worst of the lot. “Are you sure these new recruits of yours are serious?” He’d sniffed. “These young people could just be here for the novelty. What evidence do we have of their commitment to the Church?”

As if being a dour old bore was the only way to demonstrate that the Church mattered to you.

Papa supposed that the opposition believed it. Oh, you could be stern or frightening or have a great big stick up your ass and they’d fawn all over you telling you what a great example you are. Try anything else at all and they’d turn up their noses.

“We need to find some other way to make them see what we’re accomplishing, Antonio. Nothing we’ve tried so far has convinced them in the least.”

“The Band Project is more successful than ever. Surely in time when they see that the new recruits are staying they’ll come around to our way of thinking.”

“I hope you’re right,” Papa said. “I’m getting tired of trying to find new and exciting ways to say, “The numbers speak for themselves.”

They had arrived at the cloister walk. The two men stopped and exchanged the Masonic handshake. “I assure you, Papa, we’ll keep things on the square“, Antonio said.

Papa clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

They separated, and Papa entered the cloister walk, heading home.

  


#### One: A Chance Meeting

  


The light of the waning day slanted through the cloister windows, leaving the walk in alternating light and shadow.

Still brooding over the meeting, Papa nearly walked right past the novice who was staring out at the courtyard.

She turned to face him, a half-smile on her face. Pale, hair an indifferent shade of brown, light-colored eyes behind thick glasses. A bit on the chubby side. She could walk right past you and you’d never even see her.

He recognized her; she was one of the newer novices. “Vashti, isn’t it?”

She nodded, eyes wide.

Of the many novices present in the abbey, he remembered her as one of the quieter ones. Set apart. She always seemed to be alone, even when she was around the others.

She was nervous, yes. He was used to that, most of the novices were nervous around him. But there was something else in her eyes.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“N-nothing, Papa. I’ll be all right.”

Well, now he was curious, because she didn’t look all right in the least. He made a snap decision.

“I was just on my way home. You should come with me.”

She blushed and started to stammer out what sounded like an excuse. What was she—oh. OH. Right. His reputation.

Papa laughed a little. “Confession is good for the soul, my dear. You need somebody to talk to.”

She appeared to reach a decision of her own. “You’re right, Papa. I think I do.”

“Of course I am.” He grinned. “Come along, it’s this way.”

He let them both into his suite, gesturing towards the living room. “Please, sit.” While she settled into the sofa, he put on a kettle in the kitchen area.

“I will make us some tea. It makes everything easier, yes? We will follow the English example.” He gave her a teasing grin over his shoulder. She gave him a small smile back. “Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Soon enough, he joined her with a couple of mugs of tea and a small bottle of the Good Stuff. He added a healthy glug of the Good Stuff to his own mug and held the bottle out to her inquiringly.

She started to decline. She was sitting stiffly, face a bit flushed. She was, in his considered opinion, way too tense. This would never do.

He smiled gently. “It will help you relax, I promise.”

She hesitantly agreed, so he added a far smaller amount to her mug and passed it over.

She took a sip, stopped, and coughed. “What IS that?”

“It’s homebrewed grappa. A friend of the family makes it. He calls it the Good Stuff.”

“The GOOD stuff? I guess if you like paint thinner, maybe!”

He laughed. This was more like it. “Hey, it gets the job done, doesn’t it?”

“I should say it would!” She was smiling. Maybe now she would be able to talk.

“Now. Tell me what is troubling you, child.”

She looked down at her mug, seemingly unable to meet his eyes. “I—I haven’t been here very long. I just wasn’t sure what to do, now that I’m done for the day.”

“You could go to the common areas. Most of the other novices will also be relaxing now, you could meet some of them.”

“I…don’t find it easy to talk to people, sometimes. I’m not good at it.”

“You are shy, maybe?”

“Sometimes…sometimes it just seems like no one will ever understand me. I get a lot of strange looks. It’s tiring.”

“I know just what you mean.”

She looked up at him, disbelief plain on her face. “But—how can you? You’re the head of the Church, you’re—“

“The cutest one in the Emeritus line? Why, thank you.” He ran a hand affectedly through his hair.

She blushed and laughed, just as he’d intended. “So. You are new here and you still don’t know many people. Very well, you shall start with me. What do you like to do for fun, Vashti?”

“Well…I read a lot.”

“What kind of books?”

“I study when I can during the day. Before I came here, when I was in school, I was studying Linguistics. I’m trying to improve my grasp of the Celtic languages—“

“Brythonic or Goidelic?”

She stopped cold and blinked at him. “…You’re interested in this too?”

He smiled thinly. “Wouldn’t have thought so, would you? You’re not alone. Yes. Years ago I stumbled across a very old book in the library written in a language that seemed impossibly strange to me at the time. The librarian told me it was in Old Irish, so I did all I could to pick up enough to read it.”

“Then you must have been a good student.”

“If you mean in school, then no. I hated school. It was boring as fuck and my grades were mediocre. I like to study things that interest me.

But you are telling me about what you work on, not what you do to relax. Do you read for pleasure also?”

“Yes, often. Almost every day.”

“Good. I am in the middle of a book just now. Will you stay and keep me company? The shelves are over on that wall; feel free to pick up anything you like.”

“Sure! What are you reading?”

“It’s about two elves who live in a big city and solve murder mysteries. I’m on book three.”

“Is it any good?”

“Oh, it’s TERRIBLE. Complete trash. I LOVE it.”

“Perfect. Can I see book one?”

They settled in with books and spiked mugs of tea in hand. They read for a long time in companionable silence, until it grew dark.

Vashti looked up from the page. “It’s getting late. I didn’t mean to keep you—“

“You didn’t.”

“…I should probably go, though.”

Papa shrugged. “As you like.”

She gave him back his book. “Did you like it?”

“Oh yes. You know, if you like these, you should really read the series I’m in the middle of myself.”

“What’s it about?”

“Two anthropomorphic animals, a cat and a giraffe. They’re on a quest to save the universe from alien insect zombies.”

“…is it any good?”

“It’s AWFUL. I can’t wait for book three.”

They grinned conspiratorially at each other for a moment.

“I’m glad you came to visit me, Vashti. I’m sure we’ll meet again, yes?”

“I’d like that, Papa. Good night.”

“To you as well.”

She left his apartments, and he sat for a moment, lost in thought.

_When was the last time I had a quiet night in while somebody else was with me?_

 

Later, at home, Vashti lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

_What just happened?_

She thought back over the evening and it didn’t seem real, or even possible.

_He must have pitied me. That must be it._

_But then how was he so easy to talk to?_

She lay there awake, long hours after, still unable to make any sense of it all.

 

Abbey life returned to normal the following day. Vashti did her chores and the studying that was expected of all novices. She went to the library and resumed the translation she’d been working on the day before. Finally, the hour grown late, she decided it was time to go home.

She approached one of the larger common areas on her way and heard raucous laughter from within.

Glancing around the entryway, she saw a large group of clergy on the couches in the lounge, everyone talking and laughing at once.

Three clergy were sitting on one of the couches. Papa was sprawled across all of their laps like a large, lazy cat. The two Sisters were giggling, and the impossibly pretty Brother was running his fingers slowly through Papa’s hair.

She felt a sharp pang of jealousy, and then laughed bitterly at herself for it.

_And how did you think it would be? Did you really think yesterday MEANT something?_

_Because you talked about BOOKS? And you READ together?_

_This is Papa. You know who he is._

_Idiot._

She passed the lounge as quietly as she could.

 

Two days later, Vashti sat at a table in the refectory with her lunch and a book. She heard the scrape of a chair being pulled over, and looked up to see Papa. He’d dragged over a chair, turned it the wrong way around, and was now draped over it, smiling at her.

“You know, it occurred to me that you never finished that book the other night.”

“…that’s true….”

“So I was thinking that you might like to borrow it. I’m on my way to a meeting right now. You should go get the book with the cat and the giraffe, and I’ll go get the mystery-solving elves, and we should meet back here around eight tonight. Sound good?”

“…okay?”

“See you then!”

Vashti looked after him as he left, more confused than ever.


	3. Chapter 3

“Vashti, this book you gave me? About the alien race car drivers? It was appalling. One of the worst things I have ever read.”

She beamed. “I’m so glad you liked it! I thought you might.”

The two were at their usual little table within easy reach of the coffee urn in the refectory. That first meeting over books had turned into two, and now three. Without really discussing it, this one night a week had become their own private book club.

Vashti gave him back the book he’d lent her last time. “I have to say, this book about the underwater colony of human-fish hybrids was also spectacularly bad.”

“Good! I should get you book two next time...”

Papa gave her a little smile. “However….I have to ask. Did you… _mean_ to give me this one?”

Papa held out a book. The cover was lavishly illustrated with two Victorian-era gentlemen in various states of deshabille. 

_Oh no._

Vashti felt herself blush hard enough that it made her lightheaded. “N-no, I meant to get a different book entirely I am SO sorry--”

“I didn’t figure you for a romance reader, my dear.” 

_I can’t believe this is happening,_ she thought.

She buried her face in her hands. “You weren’t supposed to get--”

“Because if I’d known, I’d have brought you the one I have about the Steampunk vampire and his werewolf boyfriend. I’ll bring it next week.”

“...Wait. Wait, you read these things too?”

“Of course I do! They’re just awful, aren’t they? The very worst! So tell me…do you read the straight ones, or just the ones with the boys?”

Vashti mumbled something incomprehensible. 

“No matter. I’ll bring you the vampire one next time. Watch out for pages eighty-three and eighty-four, though. They may be a bit…sticky.”

She took her hands away from her face long enough to gape at him. “Papa! That’s _disgusting!_ ”

He beamed. “Isn’t it, though?”

“I can’t even _look_ at you right now!”

“That’s too bad, because I thought I was particularly cute today….”

“I am NOT having this conversation with you.”

A lifetime as an appalling tease had given Papa a finely honed sense of when his target had been pushed to the utter limit of what they were able to stand. He judged that it was time to back off a bit.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t tease. Forgive me?”

“Sure, if I survive this experience at all!”

He laughed. “I think you will.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“You shouldn’t worry so much. I read them too, you know. Two boys, two girls, one of each.”

“.…me too.” 

“You are bisexual?”

This was not a particularly outlandish question to ask a clergy member of Unholy Church. The overall incidence of non-straight orientations was much higher than in the general population thanks to the Church’s hangup-free approach to sexuality.

“Pan, actually.”

“Really? Me too! Who knew we had so much in common, eh?”

Vashti began to consider removing her hands from her face. _Maybe. Not yet._

“When did you know?”

She gave some thought to Papa’s question. “Always, I think. You?”

“Always, yes. I never told my family, though. They were Catholic and would not have approved in the least.”

That was enough to make her sit up and look him in the face again. “Wait. Your _family_?”

He laughed. “Well, not the Emeritus side, of course! No, these were my mother’s people.”

This gave her pause. _I never thought about him having other family before. The Emeritus bloodline always seemed…self-contained._

But of course he must have had other family. The Prime Movers had to come from somewhere.

“Were you…close to your mother?”

“I don’t remember her very well, Vashti. She died while I was still quite young.”

 _She had kind eyes,_ he thought. _And she read to me, to help me sleep._

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

“It’s all right, my dear, it was many years ago now. She was a _strega_ , you know. A witch. But of course she was Italian, so her extended family was Catholic.”

“And you knew her family well?”

“Only a few of them. Her parents, my grandparents. And her uncle, my great-uncle Salomone. Most of them rejected her after I was born. She was not married to my father, of course, and that they could not accept--and of the few who might have come around, they took one look at this Eye of mine and ran the other way.” He smiled wryly. 

“But--that’s awful. You were just a child.”

Her gray-blue eyes were wide, and full of some emotion it took him a moment to identify.

_Not pity._

__

__

_Compassion?_

He shrugged. “I never knew them, so it was no loss. And I did have my other relatives. My grandparents were the first ones who taught me to dance, who played me music. Uncle Sal used to take me to the theatre when I was very small.”

“Have you stayed in touch with them?”

“...No. When I was ten, I was given over wholly to the Church for my education as a member of the bloodline. I didn’t hear from them much, after that. They were very old even then, you know. I don’t suppose they are still alive.”

Vashti looked at him, her face set. “That was wrong of them. The Church, you--you deserved better from them, Papa.”

He grinned. “You never knew me when I was younger, my dear. You might not say the same if you knew what a difficult boy I was.”

“No, Papa.” Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. “I--I would always say the same. Of you.”

Their eyes met for a moment. Hers, a little frightened, but full of conviction. 

His, a little blank with surprise.

Very gently, he laid a gloved hand over one of hers.

“You are…kind, my dear.”

They smiled at each other, very briefly. 

He looked away. “I should go, I have work to do--”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep--”

“I’ll see you next week, Vashti?”

“...Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Until then, my dear.”

She watched him leave, and wondered.

 

Alone in the cloister walk on his way home, Papa’s mind was in a whirl.

_I haven’t told anyone some of those things in years. Decades._

__

_Why did I tell her? I am surrounded by enemies._

__

_Why am I so sure that I know she isn’t one of them?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papa's Great-Uncle Sal is named in honor of my own great-uncle Solomon. Uncle Sol was a great trickster in his own right. Once, when he was in the hospital, he organized the other patients and held wheelchair races in the hallway. 
> 
> Papa's Great-Uncle Sal was the one who first took him to the Commedia Dell'Arte as a boy, an experience which became a lasting influence on his life ever after. There will be more about this in later chapters.
> 
> I should also note that the book Papa was suggesting to Vashti for next time is, in fact, based on _Soulless_ by Gail Carriger. The first book in a series well worth reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Papa sighed, looking at the books in his hands.

He was on his way to his weekly meeting with Vashti, something he’d found himself looking forward to. He’d thought long and hard about their last conversation. He hadn’t talked to anyone like that in years. 

A small thing, perhaps. But something about her had drawn this out of him, and he could not permit the same thing to happen tonight. The news from his faction had not been good today, and he could not tell her any of it.  
_I can’t bring her into this. Let her remain innocent of this constant backbiting for as long as she can,_ he thought. It was hard enough being a novice without being dragged into the mess he was currently trying to navigate.

His mood darkened as he thought about the latest news from Antonio. “Papa, we believe that Miller’s people are planning to move against us, but we’ve been unable to embed a spy. His organization is sealed up tight; neither threats nor bribery have found us an opening.”  
All they could do for now, it seemed, was to continue to watch and wait. He hated having to face whatever was coming ill-prepared, but so far he couldn’t see a way around it.  
Satan grant that he and his people would be able to meet this new offensive, even if they were taken by surprise.

  


Vashti waited in the refectory for Papa to arrive.  
She still blushed every time she thought about what happened last time they met, but she couldn’t help but feel that something important had changed.  
The minutes dragged on. Papa was late. Vashti began to be afraid that he wasn’t going to show up at all.

_What if he regrets opening up a little?_

Thinking back over the meetings she’d had with him so far, she’d realized there was a pattern there. Most times that he seemed to be about to tell her something important, something about himself, he’d deflect the conversation away in the next moment with a ribald joke or some other distraction. 

_How long has he been hiding like this?_

Vashti knew what people thought about Papa. People respected his authority as the chosen head of the Church, yes, but they spoke of him lightly. She heard much about his reputation as a playboy and his history of jokes and pranks, and nothing at all about what else went on in his mind.

_Do people realize there’s more to him?_

_Is there anyone besides me that he ever gave the chance to find out?_

Vashti made a promise to herself. 

_This may not be possible, but I have to try to keep my head around him this time. I can’t let him fluster me too much._

_I want to know him._

  


At last, Papa arrived. Vashti could tell right away that something wasn’t right.

His steps dragged, and his head was down. His beautiful raven-black hair was mussed.

He sat down at the table with her and gave her a smile, but for the first time, something was off. In the next moment, she realized what it was.

_His smile. It isn’t reaching his eyes._

“...Papa? Are you all right?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? Here, I have the books from last week to give to you--”

“You seem tired.”

He sighed. “Well, an anti-Pope’s work is never done, you know. The meetings! The endless fucking meetings! It’s enough to bore anyone to death, my dear. Good thing I know how to make my own fun, isn’t it?” He winked.

Vashti took a deep, steadying breath.

_Here goes everything._

“Papa…I know I’m just a novice and we’ve only known each other a little while and maybe you don’t want to but---” She stopped. _Stay on track._

“--but you can talk to me. If you want to. I--wanted to make sure you knew.”

Papa looked at Vashti’s earnest face across the table, at the fear in her eyes. He realized something.

_This is a risk for you, isn’t it?_

He remembered the first time he met her. How long it had taken him to get her to relax enough to even tell him what was wrong. 

How much courage had it taken her to make the offer she was making now? He hesitated.

“Papa, you were there for me when I needed help before. Please--let me return that favor?”

 _Curse me if I am wrong,_ he thought bitterly. _This may be selfish, may be foolish. Satan knows I am both of those things often enough!_

_But...I need this. Just this once._

He glanced around the refectory. It was empty save for the two of them.

“Vashti? How much do you know about Church politics?”

“Not much, Papa.”

“Where to begin…” he sighed. “You understand that there is a guiding philosophy behind the decisions I and my predecessors have made as the head of the Church, yes?”

“The Deadly Sins?”

“Yes. I can see you’ve been studying hard in your novice classes.” He gave her a little smile. “Each of us chooses our own Deadly Sin when we take office, to set the tone and direction of our rule. You remember, for example, my older brother’s time in office?”

She nodded.

“His choice was Wrath. My brother, he believes that it is best to be feared as a leader. The iron fist.”

Vashti remembered Papa Emeritus II. He was quite a different man than the one who sat before her now. Stern. Forbidding. Yes, clearly a man to be feared.

“When I took office, Vashti, I wanted to do things differently. I believe the Church will find a stronger foundation and a better way forward with a new approach.” 

He gave her a wicked grin. “I will give you three guesses which Sin I am using as my guide and the first two do not count.”

She blushed, but was able to answer him. “Lust. They told us at orientation.”

 _And I would have known it even if they hadn’t,_ she thought.

“Well, you know me, my dear. I would rather make love, not war,” he purred. Her reactions were gratifying, those easy blushes. He began to feel a little better. 

“However, not everyone agrees with me. Enough people did to get me where I am today, but there are those who wish it were otherwise. There is one group of people in particular--one faction--who wishes this enough to try to do something about it.”

She blinked. She’d known that not everyone approved of the changes he’d been making, she’d heard the occasional grumbling. Being the quiet one had this one advantage: people tended to forget she was there and spoke among themselves as if she wasn’t.

But she had not realized how serious it was.

_He has enemies._

“Tonight I learned that these people intend to act, and soon. But I have not been able to discover what it is they plan to do.”

“What can I do to help?”

He sighed. “It is good of you to wish to help, but I don’t think there’s anything to be done. If even my own operatives have not been able to discover their plans, I don’t see how anyone can.”

“Maybe…maybe I can’t do anything about that. But I want to do something. Papa--”

 _You matter to me,_ she thought. _You matter and I hate it when you’re unhappy._

He shook his head. “You don’t know these people, Vashti. Even if there were something you could do, I do not want you involved. This could be very dangerous for you. Even being seen with me too often could be dangerous for you, if they decide that you know something about this.”

He realized with a start that he’d never had to fear for his associates before. His faction could take care of themselves, and his lovers were unlikely targets. He never spent that much time with any one of them, and he knew the opposition did not take them seriously as allies of his. They knew that they were not in his confidence so deeply--

_But now she is. Damn me for a fool._

“...I am sorry, my dear. I should not have told you of these matters.”

“I’m glad you did, though. Thank you for telling me--for trusting me.”

He ran his hands through his hair impatiently. “It was careless of me. To put a novice in danger like this? Because I wished to talk? It is exactly what they would expect of me. Impulsive, selfish, _foolishness._ ”

Vashti had never heard him speak so bitterly. Her heart ached for him. 

Tentatively, she laid a hand on his arm.

“Papa? Do you know why I became a novice?”

That gave him pause. He’d never thought to ask before. There were always novices in the Church, as ubiquitous as the black stone that the abbey itself was made of.

“...No. No I do not.”

“Well…you know I study languages. I finished my graduate degree, but I didn’t know what to do next. I had no doctorate and I knew by then I didn’t want to teach, but you can’t really do anything else with this type of degree. I felt…stuck. Trapped. 

And then a friend brought me to a Ritual. I’d been once before, but it was a while ago, it was Papa Emeritus II. But this time… it was you. You have such a beautiful voice. The way you sang the hymns made me feel like I was awake for the first time in my life. I’ve never been religious, Papa, I’ve been in churches before and never felt a thing. But it was different this time. I felt a calling. The--the spirit you brought to Ritual spoke to me somehow. I knew I had to be a part of that.

So I’m here…I’m here because of you.”

He looked up with a start.  
His eyes were full. Surprise. Gratitude. An ancient pain.  
And, for once in his life, he found that he couldn’t speak.

He looked away, took a breath.

“...Thank you. That…it’s good to hear.”

She smiled at him, no longer afraid.

He smiled back, and gave her the books he’d brought. “Now, did you remember the one you promised me last time, or do I have to wait a week to find out what happens to the cat and the giraffe?”

  


Three days later, Papa was in the hallway with Sister Elizabeth hanging on his arm. Vashti hurried by on the way to novice class and gave him a quick wave and a shy smile. He grinned and waved back. 

The Sister gave him an odd look. “Who _is_ that homely little girl, Papa? People see you two talking in the refectory all the time. Are you seriously fucking _her_?”

“It’s not like that!” he snapped. “We’re--”  
“...we’re _friends,_ ” he finished quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

“Gentlemen, I need not remind you of our purpose here tonight.”

There were sounds of assent from the four other men around the conference table. The hour was very late, and the rest of the building was dark and silent. 

“Brother Miller, we will be ready to move soon. The stars are nearly right.”

“Sssh! Do not speak of that here. Tell me, how stands our support?”

“We have some. Not enough to hold a vote.”

“Well, fortunately that will not be necessary. All we really need to know is that we won’t face an immediate insurrection when the time comes.”

“I suspect that will not be an issue, Brother. The Order of the Widow’s Son will be a problem, of course, but their numbers are relatively few.”

Brother Miller smirked. “I have plans for the Freemasons in any case. Very good, then. I consider us as ready as we need to be. We can discuss the… _other_ matters later on. This council is dismissed.”

The men left the conference room, turning off the lights behind them.

On the ledge outside of the window, a shadow detached itself from the greater darkness of the night. A young man all in black rappelled back down the building wall as quickly as he could, and ran for the Masons’ Lodge with all possible speed.

 

The next morning, Antonio and Papa held a meeting of their own.

“Papa, Brother Marco has finally made a breakthrough for us. He was able to shadow Miller’s faction for part of the night, and overheard some of their meeting!”

“Good! Tell me what you know.”

“It is very concerning, Papa, I won’t deny it. They speak of not needing enough support to hold a vote.”

“Then they can only be planning to move against us with force. But that would be madness! Surely they understand that the power of the Bloodline is far too great for mere assassinations or a simple coup?”

“They were speaking about some other matter without referring to it directly. Marco heard one of them say something about moving ‘when the stars were right’.”

Papa frowned in thought. “A strange expression, Antonio. We must consider what it may mean for a while.”

“I fear we’ve not much time.”

“I believe you’re right. But we must turn all our efforts to this now. We must discover what resources they plan to turn against us!”

“I couldn’t agree more. All my people will be working on this.”

“Your Brother Marco has done us a tremendous service, Antonio. I assume you have plans to reward him?”

Antonio smiled. “His initiation into the next Degree is being moved forward, with all that that entails.”

“Good! Please let me know when his initiation day comes. I wish to commend him in person.”

Antonio beamed. “Thank you, Papa. I know he’ll appreciate the honor. I have nothing else to report at this time. I have Leveled with you wholly.”

“Then we are Square.” They exchanged the Masonic handshake. “Good work, Antonio. Please keep me apprised of your progress.”

“Always, Papa.” Antonio left for the Lodge, and Papa for his office, deep in thought.

“Sister, please hold all my calls for now.” The receptionist nodded, and Papa closed the office door behind him.

_When the stars are right?_

Papa had heard that expression before, he was certain. But where?

For the next few hours, he turned it over in his mind, but the answer eluded him.

_I’m going in circles and getting nowhere now. I need to think about something else for a while and see if the answer comes to me then._

He left his office, and the Sister handed him the mail. One envelope in particular caught his eye, and he smiled.

_Perfect. But who can I bring with me?_

 

When Vashti left the novices’ classroom that afternoon, she was surprised to find Papa waiting for her. She gave him a shy smile.

“Vashti! Just the woman I wanted to see. Tell me, are you familiar with the Commedia Dell’Arte?”

She blinked. “Well, yes. The traditional Italian comedic theatre?”

“Yes, that’s right. There is a famous troupe called _I Sebastiani_ that will be playing here as a stop along their tour. I have been a patron of theirs for some time, so they have given me two tickets to tonight’s performance. Most people I know do not care for the rather…broad humor of the Commedia, but I thought you might appreciate it. This troupe uses the traditional costumes, even the Venetian masks. Would you like to go?”

“Yes! I’d love to!”

“Good! I will meet you in the commons of the novices’ dorms at seven, then. Oh--and as we’ll be off the abbey grounds and not engaged in the work of the Church, feel free to wear civilian clothes instead of your habit. See you tonight!”

After he left, she considered what had happened.

_…Did he just ask me out?_

_No, of course not. This is NOT a date. He’s not interested in me. Papa is not subtle. If he was interested I’d have known it by now. He just doesn’t know anybody else nerdy enough to want to go to this with him._

_Don’t be stupid. He’s only the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my entire life…and I look like a blob in a habit._

She sighed. _At least I’ll get to see a good play._

 

That evening, up in her room, she went through the handful of civilian clothes that she thought might be appropriate.

_No, this one’s too formal. This one’s too casual. This one’s too low-cut and this is NOT a date goddammit so I can’t wear THAT…._

_I don’t want him to think I misunderstood what he was offering._  
_Boring conservative black dress it is._

 

She went down to the common area to find Papa waiting for her. He smiled, held the door for her, and they headed out to the car.

“I had to leave the car in the lot across the way. The people who built this abbey did not have the foresight to include enough parking.”

As they followed the path across the grounds, Papa said, “You know, I haven’t been to a Commedia performance in quite a long time. I used to go more often when I was a boy. Uncle Sal would take me.”

“You must have liked it a lot since you’re still interested in it now.”

“Very much. The costumes, the stock characters, the humor. That was some funny shit. It stayed with me. When I took office and had to design my mask, it was the traditional masks from the theatre that I had in mind.”

Vashti glanced over at him. “…I never thought of that before, but now that you mention it.…”

Most earlier Papas had gone with a realistic or at least straightforwardly macabre design for their traditional skull paint. His was stylized, the clean lines merely suggesting the shape of the skull. Where most of his predecessors had drawn the bare grin of the skeleton, he’d simply gone for lipstick. 

“You see it, I think, yes? Unfortunately, so did some other people who did not like my style. It was yet another thing they held against me.” He sighed. “But let’s not worry about that tonight, eh? This is an excellent troupe and I think you will like them.”

 

Some hours later, laughter echoed down the pathway.

“And then--!” Vashti stopped and gasped for air. “And then he said--!”

Together, they said: “Arlecchino, WHY IS THERE A SQUID ON THE CEILING???”

They stopped to catch their breath, laughter subsiding, under one of the lights by the path. Vashti was slightly flushed from laughing so much, and her smile lit up her whole face. 

_She’s really quite a pretty girl,_ thought Papa.

_Why did I never notice this before?_

Soon after, they arrived at the novices’ dorm and stood for a moment on the stoop, smiling at each other. 

_I could seduce her,_ he thought. _She would probably say yes._

_But she wouldn’t want it to be like that, just another notch on a bedpost._

_And --_

His thoughts stopped cold for a moment. 

_And…I don’t want it to be like that either._

_Shit. I need to think about this._

Papa gently took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you for the pleasure of your company, _cara mia_. Good night.”

 

Vashti froze, blushed, and managed to stammer out a good-night of her own before he walked away.

_…What the hell was THAT?_

She stood there for some time afterwards, struggling with disbelief.

_That CAN’T have been what it looked like. What it felt like._

_Can it?_

_That can’t have just been him being gentlemanly. He does this to girls when he’s on stage all the time, he KNOWS it melts people’s brains._

_And…I’ve never heard him use an Italian endearment before. He calls everybody “my dear”._

_I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say “cara mia” to anyone._

_Shit. I need to think about this._

Sleep was clearly not going to be possible for quite some time. Vashti decided to go for a walk around the abbey grounds to clear her head.

Her steps took her well away from the central cluster of abbey buildings, into the edges of the forested land of the grounds. Thoughts in a whirl, she scarcely noticed how far afield she’d gone until she heard the voices of several men not far away.

She stopped and listened. She wasn’t close enough to make out words, but something in the tone of the discussion warned her that she should be cautious.

Very slowly, she crept forward until she could hear, hiding behind a tree.

“The time is almost upon us!”

“When the stars are right!”

“ _Iä! Shub-Niggurath!_ The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!"

“Yog-Sothoth the gate!”

One voice rose above the others in a strange, droning chant which was then taken up by the rest. The words--if words they were--sounded like no language Vashti had ever heard. The sound was insidious, worming into her brain. It hurt her ears to hear it.

Some instinct warned her to get away from there. Slowly, quietly, she edged away from the strange scene until she was out of hearing range.

She knew that something very, very wrong was going on.

She had to tell Papa right away.

She reached the main abbey grounds at last, and broke into a run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I Sebastiani_ is a real Commedia troupe based in Boston, Massachusetts. I saw them more years ago than I care to count while I was still active in the Society for Creative Anachronism. If you get a chance to go to a performance, don't pass it up!


	6. Chapter 6

Papa was still awake in his rooms when he heard the frantic knocking at the door. 

He opened it to see Vashti leaning against the doorframe, still a bit out of breath.

“Vashti? What--”

“Papa. I _saw_ something.”

He glanced quickly into the outside hall. Nobody there to overhear, or to see him bring her inside. He stood aside to let her in and shut the door.  
She stood there for a moment, eyes wide, trembling slightly. He guided her to sit down, brow furrowed in concern.

“What is it, my dear? You look frightened!”

She began to tell him about the men in the woods.

“They were chanting something…something like no language I know, Papa. It felt _wrong._ “

“Do you remember any of it?”

She haltingly tried to reproduce some of the strange words. Papa raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure that is a language? It sounds like a broken garbage disposal.”

“Quite sure. Let me think….” she closed her eyes and took a few slow breaths to calm herself.

“One of them said…Yog-Sothoth. I remember that word. And…yes! One of them did say something in English. It sounded like ‘When the stars are right.”

Papa sat up straight. He put his hands on her shoulders.

“You are sure? That is what they said, ‘when the stars are right’?”

“Yes. Quite sure.”

His eyes were grave. “This is a very serious matter, Vashti. Thank Satan they did not see you! I’m very glad you came to me. These people must be in Miller’s faction, the people who oppose me. One of my people overheard this very thing in a meeting of theirs last night.”

“What does it mean?”

“That’s the problem. I do not know. I feel as if I’ve heard it once before, but I can’t remember where. I’ve been trying to find that answer all day.”

He stood up and began pacing. “At least I have a place to begin, now. These other words you heard…I wonder.”

He stopped and looked at her. “I think I should go to the abbey library. We have many things that are very old there, from all over the world. Maybe we can find your words in there. You’re a linguist, I could use your help. Will you come with me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“We’d better go now, then. There may not be much time. We’ll swing by the head librarian’s place on the way. He knows the archives better than anyone.”

 

Papa unlocked the thick, oaken door to the library and turned on the lights. “We’d better start with the oldest part of the collection, I think. I don’t think we’ll find what we’re looking for anywhere else.” The librarian nodded and headed for the archival storage rooms.

“We’ll get a table here. The librarian will bring us the materials we need.”

They settled into chairs at a large study table. Before too long, the librarian returned with the first box. Vashti tried to lift it to bring it closer.

“Oof, this box is heavy! What the hell is in here, rocks?”

Papa checked the label. “Actually, yes. About twenty tablets’ worth.”

“…you’re not kidding. stone tablets? Nobody’s transliterated them so we could have actual PAPER?”

“Not yet. They’ve been in the archives for years and nobody’s ever needed them before.”

“I don’t even recognize the letters these things are written in.”

Papa squinted at one of the tablets. “I think it’s in Dothraki”.

“DOTHRAKI?! Does anyone even know HOW to read Dothraki?”

“Well, sort of. It was said to have been something like Ancient Westerosi…”

“…right. I’ll go look for the dictionary.”

 

After two hours of painful word by word translation, Papa sighed and fisted his hands in his hair. “I am going to take this box of tablets, pick it up, and throw it out the window”.  
“No, don’t do that—“  
“You are right, how silly of me. We’re only on the second floor. I will take it up to the roof, and THEN I will throw it.”

 

The librarian returned not long after with more materials.

“Vashti, we got another box.”

“At least this one’s lighter. I’ll open it…oh, it’s scrolls. Crackly ones. How old are they? Can we even unroll them without destroying them?”

“Maybe. We’ll have to scan them and then store the originals again to keep them safe.”

“Ok. Can I have the key to the copy room?”

“Sure, but only if you’re home before midnight and call to let me know you’re safe.”

“PAPA.”

“What?”

“…Nothing. You know what? Just…just nothing. I’ll go take these to the scanner.”

 

“I made the scans. The scrolls are in Atlantean, it turns out.”

“Oh good, at least this is a language that we know for sure exists this time.”

“Do you know how to read Atlantean?”

“…No.”

“I took it for one semester, as an elective. Three years ago.”

“Good, you’re the expert then.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

 

Several reference dictionaries later, they found one they could use to try to read the scrolls.

Vashti squinted at the page in front of her.

“I think this piece is talking about the book itself. Part of an introduction, maybe? Or maybe referring to another book this one is based on? Let’s see…these phonemes are really strange. Pna---Pnakotic Manuscripts. Yes, that’s it.”

Some time later, she sat up straight in her chair.

“Papa! I think I found it!”

“Show me!”

She read out loud: “When the stars are right, Yog-Sothoth is the gate. That is not dead which can eternal lie…and with strange aeons, even death may die.”

Papa stiffened in his seat. “Oh Satan, no. No. Not this.”

“What does it mean?”

Papa’s hands had curled into fists. He was shaking slightly. He spoke through gritted teeth.

“Those--Fucking--STRONZI!”

He stood up, grabbed a stone paperweight off the table, and hurled it with all his might at the opposite wall. It cracked into several pieces against the black stone wall and clattered to the floor.

Vashti winced. Very quietly, she asked him “You know what this means?”

He took a breath. “Oh yes. Yes, I remember now. Something I read once in passing, years and years ago. Something I never thought--I hoped I would never need to know.

“Vashti, you know that we of the Unholy Church have to do with demons from time to time.”

She nodded.

“Greater demons are rarely summoned. They are exceedingly, unfathomably dangerous. But…they can be spoken to. Bargained with. It is possible to, at least to some extent, understand them. They come from the Hells we know.

“There are… _other_ things. Not demons, not beings from our universe at all. They come from Outside, from the cold void beyond the world, and they cannot be spoken to, cannot be comprehended, cannot be treated with. They do not communicate with us. 

We know only this: they are endlessly, mindlessly _hungry_.”

Vashti shivered. “But…what _are_ they?”

Papa shrugged. “Old. Unimaginably old. Older, perhaps, than all of our universe itself. Old, alien, and destructive. Sometimes, even looking upon one of these things is enough to drive men mad.

“And now, these IDIOTS, they plan to summon these things to come HERE. To MY CHURCH. So that they can use them to gain POWER. The fools! They cannot be bargained with, cannot be controlled. If they are permitted to cross into our world, they will do untold damage. 

“And they do this thinking that they will have the upper hand. They so wish to end my reign that they will resort to this abomination! These idiots, these _heretics_ , these…APOSTATES!”

Papa was in the act of lifting a chair to throw it next when Vashti intervened.

“Papa, wait! Don’t. Let’s think about this.”

He stopped. Very, very slowly, with exaggerated care, he set the chair back down.

He took one deep breath, then another. He looked at Vashti, standing off to the side, shoulders hunched, one hand tentatively raised.

_You idiot,_ he thought. _You’re frightening her._

“You’re right. We need to know how to handle this.”

“When are they going to do it?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Papa said. “When will the stars be right?”

“Let’s go back to the scrolls. Maybe they’ll give the answer to that too.”

 

There were, as it turned out, a few crude star charts in one of the other scrolls. Papa studied them carefully. The Church had trained him in the occult, and that training served him now.

At length, he looked up from the scrolls, his face grave. 

“I know when they will have to act, Vashti.”

“...When?”

He looked at her, eyes bleak. “Tomorrow night.”

 

“And…that’s too soon?” She wondered why he looked so sorrowful. 

He sighed. “I need to explain a few things about how magic works, Vashti. You wouldn’t know this. Novices don’t study it, and some of it is only used by the Bloodline.

“To open a gate into the Void Outside where these things come from is a Great Working. It takes a tremendous amount of energy to make it succeed.

“There was a time when more people knew magic and were able to use it, when power was more abundant in the world. But the world has changed, and there is little left.

“Some few people are still able to become adepts, but even they must prepare for weeks, sometimes even months, to undertake something so large. To build up that kind of targeted power is the work of a great deal of time.

“The Bloodline, of course, has power of its own, unique to the lineage. I am the acting head of the Church, and have access to the whole of that power. There are some things that I can try to do to stop them.

“But we have no time to prepare anything else. They will have been working towards this, they will have spells ready, protections, attacks, the gate itself.

“The Church has not faced these Things from Outside in recorded memory. I cannot know if what I can do will be enough.

“There is one other resource that I have to call upon, at least. I must see to that now.

“For this, Vashti, we are going to need the Ghouls.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Papa ? What exactly _are_ the Ghouls?”

Papa and Vashti were crossing the Abbey grounds on their way to the Ghouls’ quarters. It was already late when they left the library. The Abbey grounds were in darkness, save for the pools of light from the lamps set along the path.

“They are elemental spirits from the infernal planes of Gehenna. They’re a sort of cousin to the djinn and ifrit.”

“I’ve only ever seen them on stage before.”

“Yes, we mostly use them for the Band Project now. Like many spirits, they have an affinity for music. In the old days there used to be many more of them around the Church at all times, acting as guardians and performing many tasks for the clergy, but that was when magic was more abundant in the world. It is not so easy for the Ghouls to cross over as it used to be. Still, we always have some number of them here, though the individuals who are present change from time to time. They serve the Church through a bargain struck long ago.”

“They look human, except for the masks….”

“A glamour of sorts. Left to their own devices, they will usually revert to something like their true shapes. When they are at home, they look…quite different. The glamour they use is somewhat hard to maintain, so the masks remove the need for them to try to duplicate human faces and expressions. Those are much more difficult for them to try to make look natural than the basic human shape. They also serve the purpose of marking them out, you see? So everyone will know where the spirits are at a glance.”

“Are they really Nameless? Like you say on stage?”

“Yes and no…names have power, they do not share their real names with us. We call them by their elements so that we don’t have to call them all ‘hey you’.”

The Ghouls’ quarters were at the far edge of the Abbey grounds proper, almost up against the surrounding woods. Their dormitory was a black stone building like the other Abbey dorms, but there was a chain-link fence around it.

Vashti gave Papa a questioning look. “It’s for safety. Just a reminder, so that people won’t wander in. This is the Ghouls’ territory, and it is wise to remember it.

“When we go inside, stay behind me at first. They don’t know you yet.”

Papa led them up to the door and knocked. It was opened by a tall ghoul in the familiar silver mask.

He and Papa looked at each other for a moment. Papa said “Speak so that she may hear you as well, please.”

Vashti felt rather than heard a voice make answer.

_As you wish. What have you brought us?_

“She is not for you. I need to see the Aether Ghoul. Could you bring him here, please?”

The ghoul nodded and withdrew. Through the open door, Vashti could see that the inside hallway was dark. There were dim pools of light from small windows at the other end of the hall and one or two other doorways, but much was obscured. She could dimly make out ambiguous shapes farther back in the hall.

The Aether ghoul emerged from the darkness and came to the door. As he advanced, his figure seemed to blur and shift. Had that been a suggestion of claws, of a leathery wing? They were gone, now. He resembled a man in a mask, nothing more. He looked at Papa expectantly.

“Aether, please speak freely so that she may hear you also. I will have need of your assistance in a magical matter soon. “

_Willingly, Papa. What will you need?_

“We must prevent the opening of a gateway to the outer voids. We have only just discovered this plot, and are ill-prepared. Any assistance that you and the others can offer will be necessary.”

The ghoul seemed to pause and consider for a moment. 

_I will require the ghouls of the Air. There are no others here that can be of assistance now._

“Then bring them, please.”

The ghoul re-entered the darkened hallway, and returned quickly with two female ghouls in tow, one tall, one short. 

They sniffed curiously at Vashti. One reached out a hand.

“Cirrus! Cumulus! She is not for you. You will treat her as you would myself.”

The ghoul withdrew, waiting expectantly.

“Has Aether explained what we need?”

_Yes. You will need us to prevent the opening of a gate._

The Aether ghoul looked up. _They can lend their powers to the counterspell, Papa. I can shield you during the working. More, we cannot do without time to prepare._

“Then it will have to be enough. They mean to act tomorrow night, and we are out of time. Do you know where they are likely to perform the ritual?”

_There is only one possible place. The stone circle in the forest borders._

“That’s where I saw them before, Papa. The night I overheard them. They were in a group of standing stones.”

Papa nodded. “It stands to reason. Such places have power, and I am sure they will attempt to turn it to their ends. Aether, I will need you and the other ghouls to meet me there at sundown. Be ready.”

Aether nodded. _We will not fail you. See you tomorrow, Papa._

The ghouls reentered the building, closing the door behind them.

Vashti shivered as they left the dorm behind. “What…what were they going to _do?_ ”

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Vashti. I had to introduce you to them, so they would know to protect you. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

Papa glanced at her. His face was grim. He did not reply. 

After a moment, he spoke again.

“There is one more place I have to go, my dear. Please come with me to the Masons’ Lodge. I must inform my order of what’s to come.”

She nodded, greatly troubled.

  


They reached the Lodge, and Papa let them inside. “My second, Antonio, also has his quarters here. I will bring him here in a moment.”

Papa entered one of the hallways. Vashti paused to look around. This was a sort of antechamber, with a few doors leading away into the Lodge proper. Two were ordinary. One was a great set of heavy double doors leading straight ahead, covered with arcane symbols. She recognized some of them as the tools of the Masons’ trade: The level, square, and compass. Others were unknown to her.

She had heard of the Order of the Widow’s Son, of course. Everyone knew that the left-hand-path order of Masons had a lodge on the Abbey grounds. Papa was known to be involved with them somehow, but she knew nothing more.

Papa returned with another man beside him. “Vashti, this is Antonio. He’s my second, both within the Order and the Church itself. I’ve explained to him a little of what will happen tomorrow.”

Papa paused. He laid his hands gently on Vashti’s shoulders. “My dear, I want you to come to the Lodge tomorrow evening. If the worst should happen, I will send the ghouls here, to help protect you and the others. Stay with Antonio. He will keep you safe.”

“The worst--you’re not planning to go _alone?_ ”

“Of course I am! Did you think I would bring you into such danger?”

“You’re not _bringing_ me anywhere! I can’t let you face this alone.”

“Vashti, please. You’re not an adept. I don’t want you anywhere near this fight.”

“Papa, I may not be able to do magic, but there must be _something_ I can do to help!”

Antonio spoke up. “…If I may? Papa, there may be something she can do, if she is willing. But she would have to be initiated.”

Papa shot him a freezing glare. “I will _not_ have her in danger, Antonio.”

Vashti stood up straight and looked him squarely in the eyes. “I’m going with you, Papa. I can’t just let you do this alone if there’s any chance that I can help.”

Antonio said, “From what you’ve told me, we have little time and few resources. I know you do not wish it, but…can we afford to refuse any help we’re offered?”

Papa sighed. “Fine. I can see that neither of you will listen to me. So be it. But Vashti, if anything should happen to me--”

“Don’t talk like that! Nothing is going to--”

“Listen to me!” His voice was stern. She fell silent.

“If anything should happen to me, you will go with the Ghouls. They will bring you here, to the Lodge. Antonio will have charge of the next steps. As my second, he is entrusted with the evacuation plans if the Abbey is in danger, and if I fail, it will be. I must know that you will do this, if the need arises. Promise me.”

“Papa--”

“Promise me!”

His voice was commanding. She looked into his eyes, and found no anger, only worry.

“...I promise, Papa.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. _Stubborn girl!_

“Antonio, come aside with me for a moment and explain your idea.”

They withdrew. “Papa, we do have the other artifact.”

“But she’s not an adept. What good could it do?”

“It may still have some useful properties. It was always meant to be used in tandem with yours, we just haven’t had anyone who could use it in so long. If nothing else, perhaps it will enhance your own.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try, if that’s the only thing we have to attempt. But she’ll have to be an initiate. I’ll ask her if she’s willing.”

They returned to where Vashti was waiting. “What Antonio has in mind has to do with matters that are secrets of the Order. You would have to become an initiate and swear the first oaths to protect those secrets. Are you willing to do this?”

“Yes, of course.”

“This will be a sort of field promotion. You would undergo the full initiation once the danger is past, but for now, we will have you swear. Fortunately, Antonio and I are the two ranking members of the Order, so we have the authority to do this. Come with us.”

Papa opened the double doors. The room inside was large and open, with columns rising to the ceiling that were covered with more symbols. There was an altar at the front of the room before a marble statue of Lucifer.

They led her to kneel in front of the altar and place her left hand on an Unholy Church bible. She repeated the oaths, and was taught the passphrase and handshake that were known to Entered Apprentices. 

“Welcome to the Order of the Widow’s Son, my dear. Antonio, please retrieve the artifact.”

He left the room, returning with a small wooden box. Setting it on the altar, he lifted the lid and brought out a silver ring. It was set with a round blue star sapphire, flanked by Masonic symbols etched into the band.

“This is the Eastern Star,” Antonio said. “It was designed to be used by the ranking female adept within the Order. Unfortunately, not only does the Order have no adepts besides Papa right now, we also haven’t had any women who were members for a very long time. It is said to enhance the wielder’s natural abilities during magical combat.”

“But I’m not an adept.”

“True. But the ring is very old, and there is much that we do not know about it. Perhaps it will be of help. In any case, it was always meant to be used along with the other artifact, which is entrusted to the ranking male adept. Maybe it will help Papa if you are able to have this with you during your fight.”

“The other artifact?”

Papa smiled. “You wouldn’t have seen it.” He peeled off the glove from his right hand, and she saw that he wore a similar ring. The star sapphire in his ring was black.

“This is the Western Star.”

Vashti realized with a start that she’d never seen him without his gloves before. Seeing him bare-handed like this felt strangely intimate. She felt herself beginning to blush, and was immediately annoyed with herself for it. 

He pulled the glove back on, and took the Eastern Star from Antonio. 

“Give me your right hand, _cara mia_.”

He slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

“It fits like it was made for me, Papa.”

“A good sign, I hope.” He turned to Antonio. “Thank you for your help, old friend.”

Antonio nodded. “I’ll be praying for you both.”

He looked to Vashti. “May I have a word with you before you go?”

Papa signaled that he would wait for her outside. When he’d gone, Antonio said, “He cares very much for you, you know.”

Vashti blinked. “Papa’s been very kind to me.”

Antonio smiled at her. “I’ve known him a long, long time, Sister. We joined the Order together as young men. I can’t remember the last time I saw him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not--we’re just--”

“I can see that he means a great deal to you, too,” he said gently.

“He does. More than anyone.”

“Look after him for me, will you? The Church needs him. And he needs you.”

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

“That’s all I ask. Lucifer be with you, Sister.”

She smiled a farewell, and left to meet Papa outside.

  


They stood there together silently for a moment, in the late-night darkness of the Abbey grounds, listening to the crickets and the wind in the trees.

“We should get some sleep while we can. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Come to my quarters and we’ll go to meet the ghouls.”

“All right, Papa. Good night.”

He took her hand in his. “Good night, _cara mia_.”

She watched him walk away. The thought of going to her room and trying to sleep seemed impossible with all that tomorrow would bring.

Instead, she turned her steps toward the Abbey church.

At that hour, the church was empty, dark and silent. She lit one of the big black prayer tapers. She prostrated herself before the altar, and began to pray.

_Lucifer Morningstar, hear my prayer._  
_Please protect your Church from her enemies._  
_Watch over us all._  
_Protect your son, the prince of the Church._  
_Please keep him safe._  
_Please._

In time, she grew weary. Despite the cold of the hard stone floor, she fell asleep.

  


Some time later, Papa came to the church, unable to sleep, thinking to pray as well, and found her there, her prayer taper burning low.

He looked at her for a long moment. He knelt down and gently brushed her hair from the side of her face. She shifted a little, but did not wake.

He found a kneeling cushion in one of the pews, and carefully lifted her head onto it for a pillow.

Going into the sacristy, he found one of his chausables, and laid it over her for a blanket. He tucked her in slowly, trying not to wake her.

He sat by her side for a long, long time, sometimes in silent prayer, sometimes not, until at last he felt tired enough to sleep, and left the church for his own bed.

  


Toward morning, Vashti woke. She found the chausable and whispered “Papa?” but there was no answer.

Sitting up, she wrapped herself in the vestment. She thought it held the faintest hint of his scent, and she buried her face in it for a time, and was comforted.

Leaving it folded in a pew, she went home for such sleep as she could find before all that was to come tomorrow.


End file.
